


Planes, Games and Automobiles, Too!

by apocryphile



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:55:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocryphile/pseuds/apocryphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh's thing is cars.</p><p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/571532">Planes, Games and Automobiles</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Planes, Games and Automobiles, Too!

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday lovely [Katie!](http://paralleltoparallel.tumblr.com)
> 
> This sequel's been an awfully long time coming. I can't think of a better occasion to have finished it, with a considerable amount of swearing, and a bit of help from the best fandom ever.

Face buried in a crumpled folder, Josh had barely noticed when instead of following Toby into the third car of the motorcade, she’d steered him around the shabby building Andrews AFB laughably called a passenger terminal, to a waiting town car. She’d practically had to shove him through the door, he was so engrossed.

He didn’t notice the champagne, the music, or the velvet curtains that covered the usual privacy screen, muffling sound as well as obscuring the driver’s view of the passengers. 

CJ gave him ninety seconds and then tore the report out of his hands.

He blinked dazedly, baffled.

She hissed in frustration. This might be his fantasy she was attempting to play out, not hers, but she’d been hoping to get something out of the little escapade she’d planned.

Cars, he’d said his …thing was, and now she thought about it, this was more like being in a well-appointed boat, or possibly the escape pod of a luxury space liner. 

“Did you mean like a convertible?”, she asked, picking up a conversation from aboard Air Force One – but not on tonight’s trip, several weeks ago. To her astonishment, oblivious Josh actually caught on, and chuckled. 

“I meant like Laverne, my old car.”

“Laverne?”

“You have a goldfish called Gail, CJ, shut up.”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

He just grinned, and tapped the neck of the very expensive bottle in the ice bucket.

“This is much nicer than Laverne.”

Her smile faded for a moment.

“Is that OK? Is it…” She searched for the right word. “…risky enough?”

His grin went from teasing to affectionate, and he slid closer to her on the buttery-soft leather seat.

“When I was 20, getting caught getting busy in the backseat of my crappy Dodge was barely risky. These days…” He shrugged, knowing she’d understand. “I’d be more worried about you than me, though, cited for a public decency violation by DC police, that’d be a fun morning at the podium…”

He trailed off, worried he’d gone too far and killed the mood, but she just shrugged.

“Although you did basically jump me on a plane full of reporters that one time,” he went on.

“Tried to jump you,” she corrected. Bending low, she practically purred in his ear. “You ended up doing all the work, so I figure I owe you one…” 

“Do you now…?” he murmured into her hair. “It was my pleasure, Claudia Jean, but…”

She silenced him with a kiss, and he slowly pulled her onto his lap, lazily tugging the sleeves of her coat until she shook it off and threw it behind her. Her shoes thudded and bounced as they hit the floor.

The car turned a corner and they swayed. CJ clutched Josh and giggled delightedly when he squeezed her and nuzzled her neck. Moving her hands up to his head, she traced nonsensical patterns in his hair until he was all but humming with satisfaction. She shivered when he ran his hands up her legs and then whooped, mocked-awed, when he fished her cell out of her pocket and worked out how to switch it off on the first try. His own phone followed hers onto the growing pile of items at his feet. 

“So,” she began.

He leaned back so he could see her properly and for a moment she lost her train of thought, enjoying the feeling of his shoulder muscles rippling under her hands as he moved. When she felt heat rising in her cheeks under his cheerful, attentive gaze she shook herself, determined not to get sidetracked.

There would be time enough for their cautious foray into overt affection at home. This staggeringly expensive commute (with two superfluous loops of the Beltway for good measure) was about something else altogether – something they were far better practiced at. 

She tickled his ears, lightly, regaining the upper hand in seconds, pushing herself up on her knees as he shivered, jutting her chin out and narrowing her eyes.

“Tell me what you want.”

She knew she’d ever entirely quash the flash of anxiety those words elicited, whether she was saying or hearing them, but hearing him reveal his fantasies, his desires, his curiosities, was a rush almost as heady as fulfilling them. So far, they’d granted all of each other’s wishes, and she felt safe in his hands. 

“Open the windows,” he growled, and now she knew he was indulging her. She hit the button, and they both gasped at the rush of cool air, exchanging a slightly incredulous look.

The sound and lights of the fast-moving traffic set CJ’s skin tingling and she ripped off her clothes without waiting for him. He laughed huskily when she faked a move towards the door, but held her firmly close. 

“You’re naked,” he observed nonchalantly.

“You’re not,” she rejoined.

“Pity.”

She made a face at him and slid her fingers around the knot of his necktie.

“Josh.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Tell me--”

He pressed a finger to her lips and hurriedly started to unbutton his shirt. She helped, deftly slipping it out from under his still-knotted tie and pushing it off his shoulders. He kicked off his shoes and she slid down to pull off his socks as he shoved his boxers and pants off in a careless heap. 

When she settled back into his lap and pressed herself against him her breath caught, overwhelmed by the familiar simple joy of his bare skin against hers.

His teeth closed around her earlobe and he whispered his answer, finally.

“Turn around.”

When she wobbled as she rearranged her limbs, he pulled her back against him with a little more speed, a little more force, and she smiled in the glow of the swirling lights of the interstate. 

He let his nails drag against her skin as he skimmed her sides and stretched her arms up above her head, laying her hands flat against the roof. She felt his lips on her shoulder as she braced herself, using the leverage to grind back against him, hard. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, and she let her head fall back as he cupped her breasts, moving almost achingly slowly. By the time he reached her nipples, unhurriedly rolling one then the other between his fingers, only gradually building the pressure she craved, she was biting her lip, ready to beg for more. She hissed as he pinched them both at once, and then her eyes widened in surprise as his hands slid down to her ankles.

She was kneeling astride his lap, but she followed his gentle guidance to shift her weight, rising up to unfold her legs and lay her feet flat on the seat. It wasn’t until he gently rested his palms on her thighs that she understood. She waited for him to take the lead but when he nudged them apart she moved willingly. She was sprawled against him, her head heavy on his shoulder, every nerve ending tingling in anticipation. She barely noticed him hitting the window controls as the car slowed down. He left a gap, and the air dancing against her skin was like a caress. 

He ran his hands down the middle of her body in a single, determined stroke, and she writhed, gasping, when his nails scratched the tangle of curls below her belly. He pressed gently, giving her a moment to adjust, but she spread her legs wider and gave in to the urge to plead.

“Please, Josh…”

She felt his teeth scrape her shoulder and she bucked against his fingers. He teased her, stroking her labia, until she felt light-headed. He only gave in, chuckling into the crook of her neck, when she groaned in frustration.

They both fell silent as he slid three fingers inside her, without preamble. Her brow furrowed in concentration as he built a rhythm of almost imperceptible motions, every muscle the length of her spine clenching as the tension built. 

“CJ,” he whispered. 

She knew he didn’t expect an answer.

He flexed his wrist, pressing his thumb hard against her clit, and she almost sobbed with relief, grinding against his fingers, bringing one arm down to guide him. His breathing was harsh in her ear and she could feel him trembling from the effort of not thrusting up underneath her. She rotated her hips, and they both gasped as her sex convulsed in a rush of warm wetness.

Even as her climax crashed through her, CJ turned back to face him, steadying herself on his shoulders and wrapping her arms around his head to kiss him as hard as she could muster. Sloppily, messily, she kept her lips on his until the tremors had subsided and her breathing had evened out. 

His eyes widened in shock when she wrapped her fingers around him and, without missing a beat, arched up and guided him inside her. He looked alarmed and went to help her move off him when she hissed in discomfort, but she pressed her fingers to his lips, shut her eyes, took a deep breath, and relaxed around him. 

When she opened her eyes again he had the most incredible smile on his face. He held up his hands, to indicate he was letting her set the pace, and her businesslike nod made him grin wider still. 

She put her hands back on the roof and drove her hips forward, hard. 

“Fuck,” he snarled. Nodding, with as demure an expression as she could muster, she rode him with everything she had, and his laughter quickly faded into breathless grunts. They were slick with sweat, and CJ somehow managed to find the window controls with one of her feet. The rush of air was a potent reminder of just where they were, speeding along the Beltway, and CJ felt almost primal as she tried to move faster too, like the cars illuminating their tryst a few seconds at a time. 

Focusing on his ragged breathing, she tilted her hips and flexed her muscles around him, shifting position so she could reach between her legs and stroke his balls. 

Josh roared as his cock pulsed inside her, and she let herself fall against him as he yelled something incomprehensible and gripped her so hard it took her breath away. 

The next set of incoherent sounds had a vaguely querulous quality to them, and she divined his meaning as he slid his hand down her belly to where they were still joined. She stilled his fingers with a gentle squeeze.

“It’s OK, baby. We’re nearly home.”

“Later, then,” she discerned from the drowsy rejoinder.

“Definitely.”

They hadn’t even had the champagne yet.


End file.
